Welcome to Talk Classical - A community covering every aspect of classical music!

You are currently viewing our boards as a guest which gives you limited access to view most discussions and access our other features. By joining our community you will have access to post topics, upload content and access many other features. Registration is absolutely free so please, join our classical music forums!

If you have any problems with the registration process or your account login, please contact us.

I like some of Karajan's recordings. I like his 60's Beethoven symphony cycle, his recording of the Mozart horn concertos with Dennis Brain, his Dvorak cello concerto with Rostropovich. But I have not always been enamored by his recordings of religious choral works. There was a recording of his of the Mozart Requiem that kind of turned me off the work for a while.

Amazing how different recordings speak to different ears. Is it not? I find myself being drawn to starting with the Klemperer for first listen and then going from there. Sometimes experiencing a rich piece of music at a more relaxed tempo for initial listening seems to work for me. Perhaps it's because it doesn't fly by so fast... easier to take in.

It's been fun sitting back and reading everyone's passions about The Passion! Thx all!

I stated on another thread recently that my personal faves for SMP are Richter's first and Herreweghe's second, concurring, I'm happy to note, with a number of posts here. But the talk of Klemperer reminded me that its been many years since I've heard it.

So: for the last 3 hours and 44 minutes I've played all nine sides, and its been wonderful hearing it again. And while the chorales, including the opening one, are quite remarkably slower than usual, the set as a whole never felt slow to me - I'd instead use the word that EDaddy chose: relaxed - I was quite happy to load up the next side when each one finished. In fact I was half expecting when half way through and I looked up comparative running times on the Bach-Cantatas site to find this was standard length, or maybe just a wee bit over.

Still not my favorite and perhaps not for everyday use but a timeless document with a dream team of soloists.

I think the closing comments in the Third Ear Guide put it best: "Klemperer distilled the essence of the "romantic" approach at its best into a performance that neutralizes any musicological reservations and invites the listener to share in its eternal vision. No Bach collector, from arch-reactionary to unforgiving purists should overlook it."

Mind you, Moody, if you only listen to Erb, how do you know how good (or otherwise) other evangelists are? I have never heard anyone else mention Erb but that maybe that is because the recording now is hors concours. That's not to say he wasn't good, btw. But I do note he first sang the role in 1915. There have been many great singers of the role since then.

I don't much like Bach so T don't listen to other versions. But my point is that every write -up on Erb mentions his pre-eminence in this role ad nauseum.
When you listen to a 1904 record of say Caruso you don't mention the orchestra because you are only interested in the voice.
You will notice that I said that whichever version the OP bought he should also get hold of the Erb---that's all so let's drop it now.

Fools talk because they have to say something, wise men talk because they have something to say.

The best modern evangelist I've heard is Rufus Müller. There's a production of the passion which Jonathan Miller did for the BBC on youtube which is well worth hearing.

Re Erb, his voice is characterful, and I can imagine some people are repelled, just as some people are repelled by Pears and Vickers. Mengelberg is also very prayerful, and that may not suit everyone. This is, after all, an opera.

I want my Bach in small ensembles, more authentic to the baroque performance tradition. I have two favourites, one is favourite as the best recording (overall: sound, orchestra, singers, ensemble, tempi), that one is the one by John Butt and his Dunedin Consort:

Listened to the Gardiner, Suzuki, Cleobury and Karajan versions (plus one other that's slipping my mind) of the Matthew Passion last weekend in conjunction with Gardiner's book. I am finding myself obsessed with the excruciatingly discordant B-natural that Bach slips into the closing cadence of the final chorus--it's still running through my head. It's so odd and out of place to the point it's almost otherworldly. It's a fascinating choice that Gardiner touches on briefly (mostly just to point it out). Give it a listen and see if it affects you. Any thoughts on what significance this may have?

All four of these versions have their merits: Gardiner is probably most expressive; Suzuki feels the most authentic but is a little on the sterile side; Cleobury has some interesting vocal choices, and Karajan has the old-style big band sound that's not exactly Bach but certainly is effective.

Listened to the Gardiner, Suzuki, Cleobury and Karajan versions (plus one other that's slipping my mind) of the Matthew Passion last weekend in conjunction with Gardiner's book. I am finding myself obsessed with the excruciatingly discordant B-natural that Bach slips into the closing cadence of the final chorus--it's still running through my head. It's so odd and out of place to the point it's almost otherworldly. It's a fascinating choice that Gardiner touches on briefly (mostly just to point it out). Give it a listen and see if it affects you. Any thoughts on what significance this may have?

The appoggiatura ("leaning" note) a step or half step below the main note it precedes is a common ornament in Baroque and later music, though less common than the appoggiatura from above. The appoggiatura from below is effective at suggesting grave pathos, and conveys a strong sense of inevitability (it must resolve) when it occurs on the leading tone at a cadence, as it does in this final chorus. You'll hear appoggiaturas from both directions throughout the piece, including at cadences before the final one, and the use of it at the end sums up for me the pain and pathos of the passion.